The Cable that Forms Us
by poxmaker
Summary: The different ways that TV has shaped the Wilkerson family, with a bit of 'cesty Reese/Malcolm mixed in. Rated for content and a tad bit of bad language.


**A/N**: This... I don't know where this came from. I just felt like writing _something_ different for a change, and I was watching TV late at night, so this just kinda popped out. Took a few different liberties with it, but I like it. Kinda...

**Warning:** I didn't mean for this to be my debut into Wilkercest, but it really can't be helped now. This story contains _tasteful_ mentions of Reese/Malcolm. If you aren't a fan of either slash or incest, and have a habit of flying off your rocker when such subjects are mentioned, I highly recommend hitting your back button **now**. Twice now you have been warned, and I **do not **take kindly to flames. It's actually rather sad that I have to be so forceful about this, but it would seem that many fanfic readers don't know how to be mature about things they don't agree with.

Hope you enjoy it. :D

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Television served several vital purposes in the Wilkerson household. Most importantly, it kept them sane. With the extreme amounts of crazy that seemed to plague their lives on a daily basis, being able to sit down in front of the tube and escape into whatever frivolous plot line they happen to flip across was a godsend. Not only did it allow them to forget their troubles and evade reality, it provided a sense of comfort not found in many other things.

For Dewey, television was a basis on which he formed his opinions on how to act and live. None of the people in his life had ever taught him how to behave decently, or how to be kind or gentle—all of this he learned from watching after school specials and children's cartoons. As well, neither had either of his parents taught him several fundamental principles of living: It was a matter of fact that if he had never been introduced to television that he would not know how to pee standing up—his parents had only done the bare minimum of teaching him to _sit_. Similarly, any sort of concept of romantic love would have been lost on him had he not accidentally hit the down channel button instead of the down volume button one day and changed the channel to an old rerun of '_The Love Boat_.' And although it did occur to him that learning life lessons from television programs was a bit... odd, the alternative of learning from his parents or brothers made it seem wholly more acceptable.

For Hal, television was a way to remind himself that other people were far worse off than he was. Had it not been for certain key episodes of '_Cops_' and '_Roseanne_,' he would have given up on ever trying to be successful long ago. '_Roseanne_,' for example, reminded him that while he may not be able to fully provide for his family, in the end it was that they were all together that mattered. Despite the corny laugh track and equally corny late-series theme, every time Hal saw the Conners together and at peace, he couldn't help but tear up, if only just a little. '_Cops,_' of course, had told him that it could always have been worse—at least his family didn't live in some ghetto, or weren't constantly being arrested. And while he knew that that wasn't entirely true, it was still nice to pretend.

Lois took an entirely different view when it came to television—there were few life lessons the networks had to offer that she didn't already fully comprehend, and she was perfectly content with her current lot in life. No, it wasn't for any sort of lecture or reassurance that she sat down and relaxed in front of the idiot box—instead, it was to find new and more complex ways to break, twist, torture, and impede the misdoings of her children. Public Court Television especially had given her many of her best ideas, and Judge Judy was her greatest hero. If any one person, man or woman, had any real say in how she reared her offspring, it was the mistress of the Public Court. If she could have, Lois would have sat each and every one of her boys down in that courtroom and let Judge Sheindlin have her way with them, until they either died of shame or walked out fine, shining examples of civilized society. As it was, in reality she could barely get them to sit down and watch the show with her, so she simply settled for biding her time while she plotted their eventual demise.

For Reese and Malcolm, television could have meant many different things. Malcolm could have easily explained that it provided many adequate and legitimate learning experiences, as well as valid entertainment. Likewise, Reese could have potentially said that the TV gave him a sense of self, in that it was from it that he garnered many of the scheming and violent qualities that made him who he was—although the likelihood of him being able to form such a sentence will always be stored away with the non-existent channel 01.

However, currently neither of them would have said anything that would have made much sense to their audience. In fact, neither of them were doing much thinking at all, let alone talking. In a time when Malcolm probably could have been contemplating the many different ways the electronic box in front of him affected his life, or the many ways in which it failed to give him any sort of answer or comfort or radical idea, he instead worried about whether or not his younger brother had noticed that he had slowly and subtly scooted as far away from him as possible.

Seated on the blue and red plaid, dilapidated couch in the living room, Malcolm and Reese couldn't have cared less about the anime that the TV currently displayed. Sitting a little closer to each other than they really should have been, they instead focused solely on the other. Their legs and thighs touched, along with their bare arms, and the contact was slowly driving one insane of paranoia and impatience, and the other of negligence and desire.

If television should have taught Malcolm anything, it would have been patience. Commercials were a particular annoyance to anyone, but to someone like Malcolm they were hell on earth. Being one of the most impatient and cynical people he knew of, it never took him long to begin to criticize each and every product or service advertised, and even take it out on the people around him. If he had ever once stopped to, instead, enjoy the break and watch the commercials, he might have realized that such breaks were necessary for one's sanity, and that waiting for something he wanted just made it that much sweeter.

At the other end of the spectrum, if Reese had ever stopped to watch an after school special with Dewey instead of programs consisting entirely of mindless violence, he might have realized that what he perceived as negligence was really self-doubt on the part of the one he desired. Relationships required understanding of both sides, and the shows from which Dewey derived his most important lessons seemed to have an innate way of explaining this. Although he would have eventually become bored and very much confused, even a little exposure to an after school special might have done Reese a lot of good.

Currently, though, the both of them were utilizing the television in a wholly new and, in most cases, unexpected way: as a distraction. Because while they were sat in front of the TV, neither of their parents, unless they needed something specific from them, cared to keep tabs on them—and because of this they were relatively free of their prying eyes. Likewise, Dewey seemed to be fully engrossed in whatever it was he was watching, and, to Reese anyway, wouldn't be expected to be a bother.

So they took the time they had to be closer than they normally would have been able to be. In plain view they could sit right up against each other and no one would notice. They could explain slight touches here and there away as random muscle spasms, or purposefully pick a fight just to have a reason to look into each other's eyes. And, if they were on an extreme lucky streak, they could even get away with one nearly being in the other's lap—say Dewey was hogging too much of the couch and wouldn't move, so they _had_ to sit that way.

However, as much of a relief as times like this should have been, they could also cause extreme torture. Because for Malcolm, being in plain view meant being constantly paranoid that he'd be caught. It didn't matter that, intellectually, he knew they were safe—all that mattered was that his parents were in the kitchen, and Dewey was less than two _feet_ away. Danger surrounded him, and as much as he would have loved to give Reese his full attention, it simply wasn't possible. Every time his brother touched him, or "accidentally" elbowed him in the ribs, he feared the act would be seen as highly suspicious by anyone watching, and immediately retreated into himself. He longed to be able to, instead, retreat back to his room where there was more privacy, but doing so would make little sense in his parent's eyes—because what teenager would give up TV for sitting in his room? Because of this he was beginning to hate TV altogether.

As a direct result of Malcolm's inability to _calm the fuck down_, Reese felt as if his brother just didn't care. He may not have been the most intelligent person on the planet, but he was smart enough to know what he wanted, and he wanted Malcolm. _Now_. But every time he would try to get his attention—every little touch, annoying belch, or flick to the arm—Malcolm would just ignore him. He desperately wanted to just pull the boy into his lap right there on the couch, in front of God and family, but knew he couldn't. A swift death awaited those that broke taboo—this he was smart enough to know, and smart enough not to tempt. So he waited and bode his time, feeling as if he was just being toyed with by his brother. And, consequently, the blood-spurting death of the anime rolling in front of him did nothing for his mood.

However, eventually it would become too much for either brother to handle: As much as the warmth spreading from the arm touching his own permeated his being and sent jolts through his nerves, the agonizing feeling that he was being watched and judged slowly drove Malcolm over the edge. And while patience was something Reese was actually good at, not knowing if he was simply being strung along drove him over the edge as well. So, at long last, all it took was a subtle shift in position—Malcolm's innocent crossing of his arms in a sort of self-hug that broke the contact between them—that saw Reese turn his head sharply and snarl, "Douchebag!" in his brother's direction.

Malcolm simply turned to gape at him, confused and slightly aghast.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you douche!"

Not having the slightest idea of what he'd done to deserve the insult, Malcolm retaliated with his own.

"Fine, be that way you jerk!"

And he stood and left, feeling very much cheated by the one person he had put his total and complete faith in for the past several months. He then stormed out of the living room, ignoring the shouted protests from his mother and stalking to his room, where he lay on his bed and fumed about that which he had no clue.

Reese stayed where he was, pissed as hell and not paying a lick of attention to either the blood and guts that flew across the screen, or the confused and frightened look of his little brother. He thought only of how he would pay back the little douche that had strung him along for so much time, and how much he planned on enjoying it.

However, after only a little while the burning ache of the loss of contact slowly began to drive the both of them mad. Until now there had been no reason for them not to be able to touch in small, subtle and gentle ways that went without notice by most, and their loss seemed almost too great to bear. So despite the Wilkerson brothers' legendary tempers, and marvelous abilities to hold grudges, after merely an hour the anger that had so eagerly been rampaging through the both of them vanished entirely, and in its place left only the desire to be near.

Later, when their mom had left to work the night shift and their dad joined Dewey on the couch, Reese would slip away to his room where an anxious and pouting Malcolm was waiting for him. A chair was firmly braced against each door, and Reese set about melting his brother's anxiety away, as well as displacing the pout that seemed to be a permanent fixture upon his face. Apologies were exchanged and explanations given, and they both settled down in the elder's slender bed to become a little more friendly.

As it was, none of the older Wilkersons watched soap operas. For Reese and Dewey they were boring; for Malcolm and Lois they were tiresome and idiotic; and for Hal they were simply too stressful to keep up with. However, if any one of them had sat down and taken the time to observe the kind of television that little Jamie watched, and how he then watched his family with the same keen and observant eyes—all of them would have been afraid. For Jamie watched intently—Jamie knew the signs to look for, and every single little secret that his family had thought they had hidden safely away was revealed to him. And although he was only four at the time, he had a memory that could challenge even Malcolm's.

So in ten years time when Malcolm had graduated from college and moved back to Millbrook to share an apartment with his older brother, Jamie remembered all. And although Dewey had treated him well enough, his older brother, along with the soap operas that he held so dear, had taught him one vital skill for survival in the Wilkerson family: If it meant getting ahead, he would sail them all down the river in a heartbeat. And they would ALL cower before him.

In the end, although they would never know it, television had the greatest of effects on the Wilkersons. It was the driving force behind their existence—not God, but _it_ that gave them life. They thought that it kept them sane, but, in reality, it also kept them alive. Every mishap or mistake, shouting match or loving embrace, or insane moment was because of the electronic box that sat in their living room. And when it all ended, when the craziness stopped, the duty of keeping them alive fell to yet another addicting invention in networking—but they would never know it.

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**A/N****: **So the ending there... I wanted to try and disguise it more than I did, and I think I utterly failed. However, if it isn't as apparent as I think it is, I'd be happy to explain it. XD

I also feel like the Reese/Malcolm parts are a bit... tacked on. Perhaps not. I guess you get to decide.

Lastly, Francis wasn't included. I had two reasons for this: One, he isn't at home when this takes place, and two, I couldn't really think of anything TV-wise that would explain his blaming everything on his mom. XD Sorry Francis! I still heart you! XD

So, anyway, that's it. As always, reviews are not necessarily necessary. However, they are greatly appreciated--critiques even more so.

Hope you enjoyed it. :D


End file.
